


Kill Your Heroes

by DeathMeetsLife



Category: Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Endgame, F/M, Fix-It, Or Is It?, because my feelings can't handle what happened
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-21
Updated: 2017-10-13
Packaged: 2017-12-05 23:56:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 20,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/729348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeathMeetsLife/pseuds/DeathMeetsLife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dick wants to help. Artemis wants to break. </p><p>Wally just wants to go home.<br/>-<br/><i> She swears that she meant to hit the “ignore” button when Dick’s name and picture scrolled across the screen, but something inside her told her she had to pick up. She really wants to hunt down that something and kill it. </i></p><p>  <i>“I swear to god, Dick, if you ask me one more time if I’ve seen a doctor I’m going to shove my foot so far up your-”</i></p><p>  <i>“You’ve just not been eating so well lately, so it’s no wonder that you’ve caught whatever it is you’ve caught. Please go see someone?”</i></p><p>  <i>Artemis heaved a sigh and curled further into the couch. Brucely gave a lazy yawn next to her, cuddling closer. “It’s the flu, Dick. I get it at least once a year, just ask Wa-” she stopped. “My mom. Just ask Mom, she’ll tell you the same thing. What I need is some peace and quiet for once in my life to get over this bug, and then I’ll be right back up there in the space junk with the superkiddies.” </i><br/> <br/>It's more than a bug.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dick

**Author's Note:**

> So. Endgame needed a fix-it, because, let's face it, the decision to kill Wally was a corporate one and one that I reject fully in favor of maintaining my sanity.

_Well he said_  
 _"One thing, before I graduate_  
 _Never let your fear decide your fate."_  
-"Kill Your Heroes," AWOLnation

**Dick**

It was past midnight at the Watchtower, and Dick saw only a few Leaguers wandering the halls as he passed. Almost everyone was back home on Earth for the night with their family and friends; Dick was in the Watchtower for the same reason.

In the days since the League thwarted the Reach’s attempts to destroy the planet and Wally’s… “ceasing,” the young man had slept all of five hours (though not through lack of trying on Bruce’s and Bab’s parts). It was not the first time that Dick had lost family or friend, and he knew it was not the last, but he was completely unprepared for the emotional backlash from his best friend’s death.

Despite Wally’s retirement from the team a few years previous when he and Artemis had headed off to Stanford, the inseparable duo had continued their close-knit relationship. It had not been as difficult as some might have thought, considering the easy access of the zeta tubes allowed them quick transportation between Palo Alto and Bludhaven. Even though the topic of the undercover mission had become a point of contention and a stressor on their relationship, their friendship had remained solid. Dick, at some difficult points, had dared to consider the possibility that one day their friendship would be broken, whether through anger or misunderstanding, or maybe even due to “irreconcilable differences” (because, any Leaguer knew, the diffusion of the Wally-Dick alliance is comparable to divorce).

Never had he ever thought that the cause of their broken friendship would be death.

Dick shook his head. Such thoughts were the reason he had such dark circles under his eyes, why his skin had a sickly pallor. Because when Wally died, Dick became a ghost, and anyone who glanced his way could tell. He had haunted the corridors of Wayne Manor, drifting in and out of awareness, until Alfred convinced (ordered) him to face his numbing feelings head-on.

And so, it was past midnight at the Watchtower, and the Dick stood, frozen, before the doors of the Memorial Hall.

He drew a deep breath. He released it.

He drew another.

Dick opened the door before he froze once more and strode into the dark atrium. He let his eyes adjust to the change in lighting, and he heard the mechanical door hiss closed behind him.

The chamber would have seemed like an empty, black void if not for the eerie light cast from the hologram projectors. He gathered himself and pressed forward, eager to face the shattered pieces of his best friend that he had hoarded away into some dark cavity in his soul. Dick approached where he knew Wally’s memorial to be before he jerked to a sudden stop as he took in the sight before him.

He felt his heart shatter further.

Dick had no idea how long she had been there, but Artemis had at some point curled herself into a ball at the foot of the memorial. She was not dressed in her uniform – her identity among Leaguers was more or less an open secret – but he recognized the civvies she wore to be one of the sets of clothes kept in Kid Flash’s locker on the Watchtower. She seemed to be drowning in the oversized red and yellow hoody she had wrapped herself in. 

Artemis.

_How could he have forgotten about Artemis?!_

Dick clenched his hands, and he absently noted the tears of frustration biting against his lashes. Wally was his friend. Wally was his _best friend_. And Dick did not even have the courtesy – no, _decency_ to look in on the love of his _best friend’s_ life?! He had abandoned her to her own consuming misery, and where was she now?

Curled, alone, in a room empty of everything but the holographic ghosts of friends, of lovers.

He did not have to steel himself before looking up at the face of his best friend with a resolution firmly in place.

_I’ll do better, Wally. She won’t be alone. I’ll take care of her._

Dick pressed forward, pushing past the lump in his throat as he pulled Artemis’ prone figure into his arms. This close, he could count the salt lines that had dried on the blonde’s cheeks. He held her close to his chest and made his way to the zeta tubes, to Earth. To family and friends.

_I’ll do better._

It was past midnight at the Watchtower, and Dick took Artemis home.


	2. Jade

**Jade**

“No, Roy, it’s fine. She’s with me. Yeah, we’re headed up there now. Take your time. He was your friend, too. Work things out with Kaldur, also, do you hear me? He’s prime babysitting material. Alright. I’ll take care of things on this end. Yeah, you too. Bye,” Jade sighed and hung up. She glanced into her rearview mirror, and a small, cheerful face looked back. “Okay, Lian,” she spoke softly, “time to go!”

“Go! Go!” the little redhead giggled softly and kicked her feet in her car seat. Her mother smiled lightly as she opened her door and stepped into the Palo Alto sun.

It was not her first time in the city, but it was certainly to first under the current circumstances.

As she eyed the apartment, Jade settled her daughter on her hip. Was it really a good idea to bring her? It’s not really as if she had a choice… Roy needed time to grieve on his own, and she would give it to him.

She rapped neatly on the door. Only silence. She was about to raise her hand again when it slowly creaked inward.

Her sister was pale, thin. Thinner than Jade remembered, when she saw her just a few weeks ago. Dark rings circled under bloodshot eyes, and she chewed on her chapped and torn lips. She slumped tiredly against the doorframe.

“What do you want, Jade,” Artemis’ voice scratched, coarser than it was normally, “I really can’t deal with anything you want me to do or not do or _whatever_ right now.”

The elder sister released a small sigh and softened her posture. “Oh, Artemis,” she breathed, “that’s not why I’m here.”

A look of broken confusion swept over Artemis’ face. “Then why?”

“I’m here to be your sister.”

Jade could see the walls behind Artemis’ eyes crumble, and when she spoke, her voice wavered. “My…?” Jade nodded, opening the arm that was not balancing her child. Artemis stepped forward, wrapping her arms around her sister’s neck and silently, brokenly cried into her shoulder.

Lian reached forward and patted her matted blonde hair. “Shush, shush, Ar’, shush, shush.”

* * *

Jade’s first order of business was forcing her sister into the small apartment’s shower. She left her daughter to play with the dog (surprisingly gentle for his size, and moderately cheered to have someone to play with) and set about picking up around the place. There was not much to clean, as Artemis was a naturally tidy person, but she did enough to where to apartment seemed brighter when she was finished. In fact, opening the blinds and windows did much to achieve that goal.

Once Artemis emerged, she looked much the same as she had – thin, pale, and tired – but she seemed more refreshed after the steaming shower Jade had pushed her under. She blinked at the bright sunlight streaming into the room, but then she turned her attention to her niece. A wan smile stretched her face. “She getting so big, isn’t she?” Jade could not tell if the question was rhetorical, so she hummed in a noncommittal agreement. The blonde took a seat on the floor next to Lian, who immediately forgot about Brucely to crawl into her aunt’s lap. “And so pretty, too,” she cooed, rubbing her thumb against Lian’s baby-soft cheek.

“Well, I must admit, she gets that from me,” Jade teased lightly, earning a quick grin from her sister. The best and quickest way in the past to humor Artemis had always been to poke fun at her fellow archer. “To myself, I also credit her intellect and sparkling personality, since she most definitely didn’t get those traits from her father.” Artemis chuckled lightly, lifting the baby girl into the air.

“Yeah, I can see that.”

Jade smiled, joining her sister and daughter on the carpet, and Artemis put Lian down to play again with Brucely. They sat in silence a while, the quiet settling over the pair like a downy blanket. Then, the blonde leaned into her sister, and Jade knew that the “heart to heart,” which she had never been particularly good at, was about to begin.

“Wally wanted kids.” The silence quickly staled. Jade was in uncharted territory, here. “Not right away. Not _soon_ , even. I mean, we were both still at school. But,” she gave a wet sigh, “eventually. Always eventually.” Jade looked down at her younger sister, at the faraway look in her eyes, which told her that Artemis was not looking at Lian, but at another fire-haired child, a child that would now never come to be.

“What did you want?” Slipped out before Jade could help it, and she inwardly cringed. This was seriously not her forte.

A smile turned up her sister’s lips. Jade caught movement of her sister’s fingers playing with something around her neck. “I wanted what he wanted.”

Jade waited a few beats before she gestured to whatever Artemis was toying with. “And that?” Her sister seemed to only just notice her actions and stilled, clutching the object tightly for a moment. She lifted a thin golden chain from the collar of her shirt, and what dangled from it made Jade pull her closer.

“When?”

“After my mission. It’s his mother’s. I tried to give it back when I-” her voice choked off. She cleared her throat. “Mary wouldn’t take it. Said it was mine, now.” Artemis traced her fingers over the ring, ghosting over the ridges of the inlaid gems. The brunette pulled her closer, leaning back against the couch behind them.

It had been a long time since Jade had been a sister, but she decided that it was time that she figured it out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I honestly think that adding Lian was one of the best decisions that the YJ creators ever made. Because just look at her.
> 
> She's adorable.


	3. Light

**Light**

No resistance. Just _being_. Just _speeding_ through space, _hurtling_ through nothing that could slow it down.

_Oh, what joy!_

Faster than anything, faster than any _one_ , faster-!

Faster?

No, no faster. Can’t go faster. Am light. Am _speed_. But why?

Why light? Not light. Not really.

But – no _resistance_. Why not _fly_?!

Because not light.

Not light.

Slow down.

.

.

.

Slower.

.

.

.

_Not light_. Not anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise that it'll make sense.
> 
> Someday.


	4. Artemis

**Artemis**

 She swears that she meant to hit the “ignore” button when Dick’s name and picture scrolled across the screen, but something inside her told her she had to pick up. She really wants to hunt down that something and kill it.

“I swear to god, Dick, if you ask me _one more time_ if I’ve seen a doctor I’m going to shove my foot so far up your-”

_"You’ve just not been eating so well lately, so it’s no wonder that you’ve caught whatever it is you’ve caught. Please go see someone?”_

Artemis heaved a sigh and curled further into the couch. Brucely gave a lazy yawn next to her, cuddling closer. “It’s the flu, Dick. I get it _at least_ once a year, just ask Wa-” she stopped. “My mom. Just ask Mom, she’ll tell you the same thing. What I need is some peace and quiet for once in my life to get over this bug, and then I’ll be right back up there in the space junk with the superkiddies.”

_“…Maybe you should take a break for a while, Artemis.”_

What. “ _Excuse_ me?!”

_“I’m just saying, you’ve been getting stressed lately, and that’s probably why you caught whatever it is you have.”_

“Yeah, _okay_ , Big Bird,” she snorted. “You’ve been doting over me so much, maybe you should rename yourself again. Of course, it has to be related to something aviary. Oh! I’ve got it! From now on, you’ll be known as _Mother Hen_.”

 _“You really aren’t making this easy,”_ Dick sighed, the breath crinkling in the phone speakers.

“Hmph,” she felt a little proud of herself, actually. Don’t ask her why… she just enjoys being contrary, sometimes. “Don’t act like me being sick is why you want me on a break, Herr Hen.”

_“It is.”_

“You are so full of crap.”

_“Fine. You’ve been getting sloppy during missions. You’ve been going overboard. You’ve been working yourself too hard at training. You’ve been irritable and extremely hard to work with. You need to take some you-time, Artemis.”_

“I don’t want some _me-time, Dick,_ ” Artemis spat into the receiver as she sat up straighter. “I just want to do _my job._ And how would you know all this, anyway? You haven’t been working with the team in _weeks_.” Silence. “Barbra told you, didn’t she?” Still silence. “ _You freaking Bats_.”

_“Babs is just worried, Artemis. We all are.”_

“Well _stop_. I’m sick of it.” She ran a hand over her face. The nausea rolled through her stomach again, and she forced it down. God, this bug was making her _so tired._ “Just leave me alone, Dick. Don’t call me for a while.”

_“Artemis-”_

She hung up, then turned off the cell. Leaning over to the landline on the end table, she jerked the cord out of the wall.

Artemis returned to her nest of blankets in the center of the couch, and un-paused whatever crime drama she had been watching before she had the _brilliant_ idea of taking Dick’s call. However, she only got a few minutes before she had to stop the show again to rush to the bathroom.

After she flushed the toilet, she leaned her head against the cool porcelain, taking a few deep breaths before heaving herself upright. Thinking that she might have something to help in the medicine cabinet, she opened her mirror and paused. When had she last used those tampons? She could not remember the last time that she had her period, which was understandable considering her poor eating habits and her stress that resulted in her losing a bit of weight recently.

No matter. She was looking for the antiemetics. Maybe they were in the medicine box below the sink.

She searched for the medicine in the bottom cabinet, coming up empty. Before Artemis closed the door, however, an innocuous cardboard box caught her eye.

About six months before, a university friend had a brief scare. Artemis, being the great friend and generally all-around awesome human being that she was, had her come to their apartment to take the tests Katie had bought. Once the brunette had taken almost all of them (with every single one coming back negative) she had returned to her own dorm, much relieved and with a new healthy respect for contraceptives. Oh, but when Wally had come home after class and seen the leftover boxes, now _that_ reaction was something Artemis should have caught on tape! The _shade_ his face had been as he held the unopened test in his hand, stumbling over his words and altogether tripping over himself…!

She grabbed the box from its shadowed corner and cradled it in her hands.

The fatigue, the nausea, her missing menstruations, her irritability.

Surely not.

* * *

Her hands were calm as she scrolled through the contacts. She pressed “send” and held the speaker to her ear.

 _“Hey.”_ He sounded tired. Had he sounded that way earlier, or was she really that hard to deal with?

Artemis reached up to her ring, pulling it from under her shirt and running her fingers over its lines. “Hey. I’m sorry.” She swallowed. “I’ve been really tired lately, and generally not great,” she breathed a quiet, self-deprecating chuckle.

 _“I know, me too. And I shouldn’t have pushed you so much earlier. What’s up?”_ She hesitated, her words sticking heavily in her throat. _“Hey, you there?”_

“When’s the soonest you can come around?”

 _“I mean, I’m pretty much free for the rest of today. I was supposed to zeta over to the Manor for something later on, but it’s nothing I can’t do tomorrow.”_ Dick paused, and when he spoke again his words were laced with concern, _“Are you feeling worse?”_

“I just – you were right, I should see the doctor, and I just don’t want to be alone, right now,” she admitted haltingly. The young woman balanced the phone against her shoulder and reached up to the counter from her place on the floor. “And I think I’ll have to take some time off from the team.”

She stared at the bit of plastic she held between her fingers, and the pink plus stared back.

“Please just come when you can, okay?”

He must have caught the slight waver in her voice because she could hear the jangle of keys and the slam of a door over the line. _“I’ll see you in fifteen, Artemis. Do you want me to stay on the line? I can until the signal gets scrambled from the zeta.”_

“No, that’s fine. I’ll see you in a few minutes. Bye.”

 _“Bye.”_ He ended the call, and Artemis knew he would shorten the travel time by at least half in his rush. She let the cell phone fall from her shoulder into her lap and continued to rub her thumb over her ring.

She curled into herself on the bathroom floor and waited.


	5. Sound

**Sound**

The wind whistled past, the noise almost deafening after running in silence for so long.

Light was too fast, light escaped sound, but Sound was no longer light, no longer careening through the galaxies and bouncing between the stars.

Sound had slowed and now could not escape the thrumming, rushing air as Sound flew past. Occasionally, other things were heard through the wind – a dog bark, a jet engine igniting, garbled extragalactic speech – but Sound moved too fast to catch more than a hint of the echoes before being whisked away.

Sound could not see. All around was the silver-white of the vortex before and the slipstream behind.

Seeing wasn’t for Sound. Seeing was for _Material_.

Sound wanted to see, but _oh_ how hard it would be to become material! To become so _slow_. Much hard than becoming Sound from light.

Sound wanted to see. Sound could become material.

Slow down.

.

.

.

_Slower_.


	6. Brucely

**Brucely**

My Man has been gone for a while.

For a long time, it was my Woman who was gone, but then she came back. My Man had been sad, but I think he had known she was coming back, and when she had, my Man and my Woman were happy again, like we were before she left.

This time, I don’t think my Woman knows that he’s going to come back. He always comes back. My Man was the one who found me in the wet and brought me home. It’s the least I can do to wait for him.

But he’s been gone an awfully long time, and my Woman is sadder than he ever was when she was gone. I think she thinks it’s too quiet, because some days she turns on the loud picture box and just lets it play until she sleeps. She leaves sometimes like they’ve always done before, coming back smelling like other people and sweat and sometimes blood, which makes me worried, but it’s usually not hers. Instead of smiling when she came back, like they used to, her eyes are red and she just lays down. I sleep with her on the couch, because she won’t sleep in their bed.

I can understand that. It smells a lot like him, so I avoid it, too.

Where is he? He’s never been gone this long before. My Woman is getting worse; she’s barely eating, and now she’s sick. She’s spent a long time in the bathroom.

A key turns the lock, but it’s not my Man who walks in – it’s his friend, who always rubs my ears and gives me treats. He’s probably here for my Woman, though, so I take him to the bathroom. He stands in the doorway, looking at something my Woman’s holding, before falling down next to her and hugging her. She starts to cry, so I go and lean into her, too.

When my Man’s gone, it’s my job to keep my Woman happy. Even though I haven’t been doing such a good job lately, I’ve been trying, and I’ll do better.

My Man’s been gone an awfully long time. He needs to come home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, I know some of you don't like the short little chapters like the one before this, but they're important and I wouldn't include them in the storyline if I didn't think I needed them. So chill out.


	7. Dick

**Dick**

His shoulder was sopping wet, but he could not care less about that at the moment, when he had his arms full of a shaking, sobbing Artemis. His eyes darted down to take in the test, now resting on the cold, bathroom floor, once more before squeezing them shut against the flood of stricken tears that threatened to fall down his cheeks.

_Pregnant_.

God _dammit_ , Wally, _really?_ His friend was making it very difficult to uphold his promise.

Dick continued to rub his hand over her shoulder in what he hoped translated into slow, calming strokes, although what he held inside was far less calm in nature. When Artemis had called him back earlier, he suspected that being as sick as she was shook her emotional state, and that she probably was ready to finally, _finally_ , break down, to cry her heart out and let the healing process begin. Well, she was breaking down, but he would be hard-pressed to say that she would feel better for it.

After about a half hour, when Artemis ran out of tears and her dry sobs were sporadic, Dick gather her in his arms, jostling off the poor dog who most likely did not know what was happening at all, and took her to the bedroom. Just as he realized that the bed did not look slept-in, Artemis found her voice.

“Couch, please.”

Dick tightened his hold. “Alright.” He deposited her on the couch and pulled the blanket over her shoulders. Brucely took up his spot on her feet, and he took his place on the floor next to her and waited, brushing his hands over her hair.

“So,” she croaked after a while, her throat raw after crying for so long, “I’m pregnant.” Her voice hitched a bit on the word, and she bit her lips in an effort to hold herself together. “I’m pregnant.”

Dick took her hand. “Artemis,” he began slowly, “you don’t have to be strong about this right now.”

She scowled, and he could see the turbulence in her storm-gray eyes. “Yeah, _Dick_ , I do.” She spat her words with anger and hurt. “Who else would be strong for me? _Wally?_ ” Artemis gave a broken laugh, which pierced right through the man’s chest. “Wally’s _gone_. He’s _dead_ , and he’s not coming back, he’s not going to walk through that door, he’s never going to fix the sink or finish college or become my _husband,_ and he’s never going to see-” she choked off, a hand shooting immediately to her still-flat stomach, and Dick knew the beginning of a hyperventilation attack when he saw one, “see his kid, oh god, Dick-!” She hid her face in the blanket. He stroked his thumb over her fingers, speaking softly. It took a few minutes for her to regain her breath. “I’m so sorry,” she murmured, “I’m so _so_ sorry.”

“Shh, it’s okay, Arty, it’ll be okay.” He squeezed her hand. “It’s hard. And I’m not going to lie to you, because of been where you are too many times to be fair to a person,” she tightened her hold in apology, “it’s only going to get harder,” she sniffed, “but you are not alone. You’ve got your family, Artemis. And I don’t just mean your mom and Jade. Our _team_ is your family, too, it always has been. So let us help you, alright? _We_ ’ll be strong for you.” She met his clear blue eyes, which he was sure were as red-rimmed as her own. “It’s okay to be weak, right now. You’ll be strong again soon, but it’s okay to be weak, too.”

She nodded. “Thank you. For being such a good friend to me.”

He laughed a little. “I’m just doing my job. Well, one of them.” She gave a watery smile, and snuggled down into the blanket. He waited until she was settled, no hiccups in her breathing, before he breeched another delicate subject. “So, how…?”

“Did this happen? I don’t know,” she gave a small chuckle, “I’ve been thinking about it, and it must have been when I got back from the mission. It’s a bit hard to keep up on your birth control regimen when you’re on a submarine in the middle of the Pacific.”

“Understandably.” He smiled a little as she gave another short laugh at his frankness.

“Can you come with me to the doctor?” Artemis asked after a moment of hesitation. “You don’t have to,” she rushed to say, “I just-”

“-Don’t want to be alone?” She nodded. “Of course. I’ll do anything you need, Artemis.”

She swallowed and nodded. “Good. Great. Do you think you could call M’gann? And maybe Zee and Babs?”

“Yeah. Do you want me to stay?” Another nod. “Okay, give me a minute.” He released her hand and pulled out his phone. At this time of day, M’gann should be on shift at the Watchtower and should only be pulled off in the event of an emergency. He glanced back at Artemis on the sofa, dragging her nails distractedly through Brucely’s short hair before he ducked into the kitchen. He was fairly sure this counted as an emergency, right? He pressed a speed dial and waited for the connective ‘click.’

_“Watchtower.”_ Dick sighed as he heard Barbra’s smooth tone over the line.

“This is Nightwing. Is Miss Martian on shift?”

_“Affirmative,”_ he could hear the smile in her voice, _“would you like me to connect you?”_

“Affirmative,” he mocked gently. He could hear a quiet _“asshole”_ before the transfer click and he smiled.

_“Hello?”_

“M’gann, is it a secure line?”

A brief pause, before, _“Yeah, what’s up?”_

“I need you in Palo Alto, pronto.”

_“What’s wrong with Artemis?”_ her concern practically seeped through his speaker. _“Is she alright?”_

“I can’t say much about it, but she’s not asterous and really needs you right now. Is Zatanna on shift?” He filled a glass of water and set it aside, searching the cabinets for any soup that would be easy on Artemis’ unsettled stomach.

_“No, but she’s scheduled for the next one.”_

“Cancel it, ask her to come when she can. Also, ask Barbra to come when her shift is done, but, M’gann, Artemis needs you _now_.” He silently cheered when he found a can of tomato soup stuffed behind some boxes of pasta.

_“Alright, I’m on my way. I’ll be there in ten.”_

“Thanks, see you then. We’re at the apartment.”

_“Okay, bye.”_

He set about starting the soup, and brought the water out to Artemis. He set it on the coffee table, drawing her attention away from her thoughts.

“Thanks,” she smiled. “M’gann?”

“On her way. I’m also making you something to eat.”

“Great.” She looked towards the television, at the episode she still had frozen. “D’you watch this show?”

“Nah, but I like most crime dramas. Go ahead and hit play.”

The two settled in and waited for their third to arrive, momentarily distracted by the lives of the detectives on the screen.


	8. Artemis

**Artemis**

“Hello? Anyone home?” Artemis called into the seemingly empty manor. She heard some noises from the direction of the study before Ollie tripped through the doorway.

“Artemis!” he exclaimed before pulling her into a hug, which she gladly returned. Since taking on the role of her mentor some six years before, Oliver had very much become like an actual uncle to her, and, at the moment, she relished the companionship of family. He pulled away, and gently put his hands on her shoulders. “How you doing, kid?”

She gave a shaky smile. This was going to be harder than she thought. “I’ve been better. I need to talk to you about something, actually. You busy right now? I can come back later, or-”

“No, no, I’ve got a teleconference in about an hour, but I can push that back. Anything to spend a little quality time with my ‘niece,’” he winked and she grinned in return. “What’s going on? You in trouble?”

“Of a sort,” the young archer murmured under her breath, as she allowed the man to lead her to the den and onto the couch. He took the empty adjacent armchair and leaned forward in interest.

“Well, here I am. I’m all ears.” Ollie gave an encouraging smile. “How can I help, Artemis?”

Artemis settled more comfortably into the couch. This was the first stop of the many she had to make to go into retirement once more, and it was probably going to be one of the more difficult ones. Ollie had been ceaseless in his concern since the end of the Reach invasion, calling her at least once every other day, but she had enveloped herself in her grief and blocked out any contact with him, with anyone that wanted to comfort her. His eagerness to help, Artemis thought, was completely understandable, because it was the first time that she had allowed him to in weeks. “There’s really nothing you can do, it’s just something you really need to know.” She took a deep breath. “I’m retiring from the team again.”

Ollie smiled softly. “I understand. It’s times like these that it’s best to step away from everything and get your bearings again.”

“Er, no,” Artemis fiddled with a loose tassel on one of the pillows, pulling it into her lap as a distraction. “That’s not the reason…”

Now her mentor looked worried, his brow furrowed in thought. “What did you mean earlier, when you said you were in ‘a sort’ of trouble, Artemis?” His voice was stern, and he seemed more like a father to her than her own at that moment.

“Well…”

* * *

_“Hello?”_

“Hey, Dinah! It’s Artemis.” She looked uneasily to the side, almost embarrassed that she had to make this call. “Can you get over to Ollie’s as fast as you can?”

_“Why, what happened?”_

The protégée glanced down at the man that she respected above almost any other. “He’s fainted.”

Artemis swore she could hear the smack of Black Canary’s facepalm through the cell phone speaker.

* * *

_Well, that’s one group down_ , Artemis mused as she left the Queen Estate.

After being revived by a sweet smack to the face (courtesy of one Miss Dinah Lance) and Ollie recovered from his shock, the billionaire proceeded to insist on paying for any and all medical fees and to regale Artemis on how he would spoil her child rotten, which, judging by the flood of gifts he drops on Lian, was not a far off assessment.

Dinah promised to reign him in from telling everyone immediately, though she could not give Artemis a better estimate on how long she had before everyone in the League knew of her condition. The woman then engaged Ollie in discussions of setting up a room for her at the estate for “visits,” giving Artemis the opportunity to slip out and get to the nearest zeta tube as fast as she could.

As she dematerialized at the Watchtower, she caught Batgirl’s eye. Barbara turned from her position at the controls and gave her a look, glancing from her face to her stomach, to which Artemis nodded. The redhead smiled, before turning to the station’s intercom.

_“Aqualad to bridge. I repeat, Aqualad to bridge.”_

“Thanks.”

Batgirl returned her attention to Artemis. “No problem. So the doc confirmed it?” A nod. “Oh, come’re.” The blonde fell into her friend’s hold gratefully, taking the quick squeeze before backing away again. “Is this your first stop?”

She shook her head. “No, I just came from Star City.”

Barbara gave an unladylike snort and leaned against the console. “You’re kidding me. How’d he take it?”

“I’m pretty sure he’s measuring out a nursery suite as we speak.”

The other girl laughed for a moment before noticing the tired expression on Artemis’ face. “You’re serious.” Artemis’ stare pinned her.

“I am _completely_ serious.”

“Serious about what?” A new voice broke into their conversation, and the girls turned to the handsome Atlantean making his way towards them. “Hello, Artemis. I wasn’t expecting to see you.” He give her a light hug. Artemis was getting a bit sick of the hugs, but returned the gesture anyway.

“Hey there, Kal. We need to talk.” She waved a goodbye to Batgirl, who gave an encouraging smile and sat back in her seat. Kaldur’ahm and Artemis strode away from the bridge and into the central corridor.

“Of course. Would a conference room be more comfortable?”

“Just somewhere private we can sit, I guess.”

“The observation deck might be more suitable, then.”

The pair made their way slowly, exchanging small talk and enjoying the comfortable silences that seemed to settle between them. At their destination, they chose a bench and sat, staring out the large window that separated them from the vacuum of space. The quiet continued to stretch as Artemis gathered herself to what she was about to say.

“You’re going to resign from the team.”

Artemis shook her head lightly, a small smile gracing her lips. “I don’t know how you do that, Kaldur. It’s like you’re the one with the telepathy, not Miss M.”

He smiled and replied softly, “Perhaps it is merely because I know my friends so well.”

“Yeah,” she murmured and leaned back against the wall behind her. The world turned below them, clouds swirling over the seas and landmasses. Her eyes never strayed above the Arctic Circle. “Yeah, you do.”

“What I don’t know, however, is why you are leaving us this time. You seem much more… grounded, than you have in the past couple of weeks.” She nodded. She knew that her actions on the few missions were more than a little erratic. He turned his gaze away from the window and towards his teammate. “I would be happy to keep you on if it were merely a matter of your discomfort with the team, as you seem to be settling into yourself once more. However, the fact of the matter seems to be that you wish to leave for a reason other than an issue of demeanor. Tell me, Artemis. Why are you resigning?”

She chewed on her bottom lip, a habit that Wally had broken her from years ago. She shut her eyes against the memory and sighed. “I’m pregnant, Kal.”

A beat of silence. Then another.

“I believe congratulations is in order, then,” she opened her eyes to meet his, which held equal parts joy and sadness, “as well as my sympathies.” He did not expand any more on the latter subject, but both he and Artemis knew that doing so was not necessary.

Artemis gave a wet sounding laugh and ran a hand through her unbound hair. “Not the explanation you were expecting, huh?”

“I’ve learned, in my years as your friend, to never expect a simple explanation,” Kaldur’ahm smiled and patted her hand, “from either of you. Both of you have always been unpredictable, to say the least. I hardly expected that to change, now.”

Artemis swallowed against the lump in her throat. “Will you,” she coughed. “Will you tell the team, for me?”

“Of course. I expect that there may be others you must deliver this news to.” She nodded. She had one more stop to make before returning to her mother’s apartment in Gotham for the night. “Artemis, don’t forgot that you have us to support you if you require it. This team-”

“-Is a family. Yeah,” the young woman gave a wan smile and dropped her gaze to her hands, “I knew that, consciously, before, but…” she hesitated, “I’m really starting to see that, now.”


	9. Barry

 

**Barry**

He felt awkward as he rapped on the door. Since the end of the invasion, he had seen less and less of his brother-in-law and his wife, a fact that he took no pride in. He knew it was the coward’s way, but he just could not bring himself to face the parents of his former protégé. Running was a natural response, after all, and whether it be towards trouble or away from his problems, he was good at it.

When Rudy opened the door, Barry let a small smile flit across his face. “Hey, there. Did you get a call, too?” he asked as he warmly shook the older man’s hand.

Rudy stepped aside, allowing the speedster into the living area. “Yeah, though I don’t know what about. She wouldn’t mention anything on the phone, only that it was important that we get together tonight for dinner. She says she has something she needs to tell us.”

“Is that Barry I hear in my house?” A voice called from the kitchen. The middle aged woman stuck her head out from around the corner. “Or do my ears deceive me?”

“Good evening, Mary,” he grinned and gave the woman a bear hug. “What seems to be on the menu tonight?” He reached towards a pot lid, curious as to what contents were secreted away beneath it, before his hand was rapped with a flick of Mary’s wrist. He rubbed his knuckles, quietly admiring the damage the woman could do with a wooden spoon.

“Spaghetti carbonara, now keep your grubby hands away from it until it’s on the table, Mister Allen,” she scolded. She paused, and Barry could tell that she was thinking of another speedster trying to sneak snacks, so he rushed to distract her.

“Do you know what this is about, tonight?”

“No,” Mary admitted lowly, stirring the noodles in the pot before turning back to preparing a salad. “But she should be here any-” The doorbell rang, and Mary practically tossed a tomato in Barry’s face in her excitement. “I’ll get it!” She called to her husband, who watched her bemusedly as he continued to set the table for four.

Even from the kitchen, where Barry continued prepping the salad, he could hear the woman’s enthusiastic welcomes and the door closing behind the last member of their party. As the two women rounded the corner, the man got his first look at Artemis since that day in the Arctic Circle.

She looked better than what he had heard others describe, more centered than the loose cannon that had been going on the League missions. She still seemed far more delicate than the girl he had known before who wore confidence like a cloak and who seemed to be made of forged steel; there was something in the way that she carried herself, however, that belied that she was working back into becoming that person once more.

When she met his eyes, she tensed like a tightly-wound coil, like the tigress that she took her new name from, and Barry blinked confusedly. She distracted herself once more with Mary and moved to greet Rudy at the table. He watched he mannerisms, noting how she angled herself to have an eye on him at all times.

She perceived him as a threat.

 _She_ perceived _him_ as a _threat_.

He threw the chopped tomato into the bowl, but not before snagging a slice for himself and popping it into his mouth. Why would she ask him to a dinner when she was so completely uncomfortable around him? He frowned.

Mary hurried back to the stove, shoving a red onion at the speedster as she did so. “Finish cutting that up and toss the salad, would you, Barry? Now that she’s here I can finish this off, and we can eat. So stop stealing pieces out of the salad.” The pair worked in tandem to finish off the dinner and moved the food into the dining area.

“Oh, Mary, this looks wonderful,” Artemis practically cooed as she took her spot at the table. Keeping in mind her discomfort, Barry took the chair across from her. A look of relief seemed to cross her face before she turned to the eldest man. “Rudy, how are things at the office? Please tell me you caught whoever it was stealing the lunches out of the break room.”

Rudy entertained the table with the tales of the Break Room Bandit, and the dinner, all-in-all, seemed to be a success. After they had all polished off the last of their salads, Mary coughed a little into her napkin.

“Artemis, sweetie, you still haven’t told us why you wanted to call this dinner. Not that we don’t love your company, of course,” she smiled comfortingly and grasped the young woman’s hand where it rested on the tabletop, “but you seemed to have something specific in mind when you called us.”

“I did,” the blonde admitted, suddenly looking much more tired than she had scant seconds before, “I do. I have something very important to tell you all, and, even though I’ve had all day to figure out how to do it, I’m still tongue-tied. So I guess I’ll just have to be straight forward about it, because you all really need to know.” Mary squeezed her hand and gave her an encouraging smile, and Rudy leaned further forward in his seat in attention. Barry himself tried not to fidget in his seat at the anxiety began to eat at him. “I’m pregnant.”

Wow.

He was _not_ expecting that.

Mary gasped lightly, bring her free hand to her lips as tears sprang to her eyes. Rudy seemed to be frozen in time, eyes wide and mouth slightly-agape.

“Oh, honey, come here!” Mary stood and practically pulled Artemis into her arms, squeezing tighter than Barry thought possible for her petite frame. The younger woman, however, relaxed in the woman’s grasp. “You know I’ve always thought of you as a daughter, right? Even before Wally gave you the ring- you still have that, oh don’t you?” Artemis wriggled free enough to pull a necklace from her collar, displaying the jewelry to the crying woman. “Oh good oh good. A grandmother! Can you believe it, Rudy?” Mention of his name seemed to snap the man from his stupor, and he rounded the table to save his would-be daughter-in-law from his wife’s grasp before pulling her into a bear hug of his own. Barry soon joined them, placing a light hand on her shoulder and smiling.

“Congratulations, Artemis.”

She gave him his first smile of the night from the girl, although she still seemed tight with tension. “Thank you, Barry. I wanted to tell you myself instead of you having to hear it from Ollie, although Dinah’s running interference on that front.”

The blond man laughed. “Yeah, I can see that happening.”

Mary interrupted them as she drew the younger woman’s attention again. “Artemis! Honey, tell me what you’re going to do about school in the fall…”

* * *

The night had mostly wound down by nine o’clock, with Mary and Rudy discussing future plans in the living room as Barry munched on an apple by the fridge. A few moments before, he had spied Artemis stepping outside for some fresh air, and he gave her a few minute’s privacy before joining her on the back porch.

“So, Arty,” he announced his presence as he come through the sliding doors, shutting them behind him against the early August heat, “are you going to tell me why you’ve looked like you wanted to stick an arrow in me since you got here?”

She laughed a little to herself as she sat on the wooden porch swing, and it sounded a bit too self-deprecating for Barry’s comfort. “Sorry about that. I really don’t want to, I promise.”

“It’s okay. So will you tell me?”

“You’re not going to like it.”

“Probably not.”

They let the silence hang between them, and it was soon filled with the chirping of the cicadas that permeated the night.

“I kind of hate you a little,” she quietly admitted, and Barry took the seat next to her on the swing. “Sometimes, I hate you a lot.”

“Why do you feel that way, Artemis?” he asked, even though he thought her already knew the answer. It was probably for the same reasons that ran through his mind every night as he tried to sleep.

She drew her knees up to her chest and rested her chin on top of them. “The reasons change. Sometimes it’s because you were there to hear _those words_ from him, and I wasn’t. Sometimes it’s because I wish that you had died instead, and that he was here next to me; those thoughts make me hate myself, too, because I don’t mean them,” she reassured, “I don’t. Not consciously. But subconsciously, Barry, I guess I still blame you a little for what happened,” the woman looked down at her hands. “I know it’s not right, but I do.”

“I blame myself, too,” Barry confessed. “So don’t feel bad about it.” Artemis looked like she was about to protest, but he held up a finger. “Wait. Just know that, even though you believe, on whatever subconscious level, that I’m the reason Wally’s gone, I will do _everything_ in my power to make sure that your child will never be without you. I’m not going to take your child away from you.”

She relaxed entirely next to him, looking well past her twenty-one years. “I know that, Barry. I guess I just… needed to hear you say it? It’s completely irrational.” Artemis shook her head. “I’m sorry, I just have a lot of trust-issues, as I’m sure you know.”

“It’s okay. Believe me, a lot of all this is baby-hormones… I’ve been going through this with Iris for the past couple of months, so I speak ‘irrational’ fluently.” His words drew a small chuckle from the woman, and he smirked. “Now come’re so I can give you a hug that’ll put Rudy’s grizzly grip to shame.” She smiled and accepted his embrace. “I’m happy for you, hon.”

Her grasp on the back on his shirt tightened, and she tucked her head further into his chest. “I just wish he were here to be happy, too.”

“Oh, he would be so happy, Artemis. He’d be so proud.” He rubbed her back in gentle circles and kept himself from imagining what it would have been like if his nephew were just inside.

* * *

Once he closed the door to his home just past ten, he leaned against it and sunk to the ground. He held his head in his hands and curled in on himself.

“Wally, you’d be so happy,” Barry murmured against the quiet sobs that wracked his chest. “You’d be so proud.”


	10. Material

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long break. School, health issues, family, summer, blah blah blah.
> 
> I'm so glad I'm finally posting again.

**Material**

 

Material glanced about, able to glimpse images through the holes in the silver speed stream.

 

A park. A rocky shoreline. A traffic jam-packed urban center. A child with brown braids. A woman with a blonde ponytail.

 

Huh.

 

Material was slower than Light, than Sound, but Material still flew through the multiverse like Light and heard like Sound. Now, Material had _substance_. Material was _becoming_ something, something with purpose, something with knowledge.

 

Material knew things, now.

 

Material knew what the midday sun looked like reflecting off of the cirque glaciers in the Italian Alps and how a white dwarf star shines brilliantly in its final days before its implosion.

 

Material knew that the _becoming_ was not yet complete. There was still one more stage to go.

 

Material slowed down.


	11. Artemis

**Artemis**

 

She felt the pounding in her head before anything else, a stiff and throbbing pressure against the base of her skull. The cold firmness of the ground was her next sensation, and she knew better than to open her eyes and visibly join the waking world. Instead, Artemis slowed her breathing and heart rate and settled in closer to the concrete floor of her prison cell.

 

She knew a kidnapping when she saw one.

 

Artemis attempted to sort through her most recent memories in an effort to grasp a better hold on her situation, but a sharp pain interrupted her thoughts. She would have to fly blind, then.

 

First things first. Her training (both from her father and Ollie) told her that the first order of business post-kidnapping was to check yourself for injuries. A throbbing in her wrist told her that it was sprained – she probably landed on it when she fell after someone whacked her on the head. The tenderness on her head was probably the worst of it, but that was to be expected, as head injuries were always delicate and bled profusely. Other than a few other cuts and bruises (one notable on her knee from when she walked into her coffee table that morning. Or yesterday. How long had she been out? In any case, _ow_ ) Artemis felt relatively unharmed.

 

Next, location.

 

Artemis listened closely, but the only sounds she could discern were the soft hiss of air through ceiling ducts and what sounded a bit like the rhythmic echoes of a machine somewhere below her. Barely cracking an eye, she took in her quarters. Gray concrete floors, three gray concrete walls, and one translucent glass panel that made up the fourth wall in her cell. No obvious observational devices, although she assumed that an infrared microcamera or two were imbedded throughout the concrete, as was the norm in most of these holding cells. One must have picked up a movement, because soon a hum of electricity reached her ears. She looked towards the translucent panel as the glass cleared, and Artemis tensed at the figure standing in the corridor.

 

“Hello, Artemis. I was really looking forward to seeing you again.” The blonde sat up, as obviously her farce had been discovered, and moved so that her back was to the wall facing the glass. Connecting the dots, she realized that the rhythmic pounding she had heard was not a machine after all, but the crashing of waves against the island’s cliffs. Artemis knew _exactly_ where she was.  

 

“I figured Ubu would get you here on time. He’s one of your more reliable Shadows, isn’t he? Though I must admit, I was hoping that he would have been too late, Ra’s.”

 

The elder man hummed his disappointment, though his smirk remained. “They say that Lady Luck is a fickle mistress, though, somehow, she has never abandoned me. In addition, Miss Crock,” he tilted his head back in an aloof manner, “as someone who trained under the Shadows for quite some time, I would have expected better respect from you.”

 

Artemis gave a mock grasp, “My apologies! Great One,” she murmured as she gave a jeering bow. The movement made her head throb in protest, but she ignored it. “What am I doing here? Infinity Island getting a little lonely with so many of your Shadows grabbed up by the League?” A small tensing at the corner of Ra’s al Ghul’s mouth told her that she got her location correct.

 

“Sadly,” Ra’s paced the length of her cell, running his fingers along the glass, “a few of my less capable servants have been apprehended, yes. But what do the French say? _Que sera, sera_ … I have more pressing projects than those halted by those caped buffoons. No, my dear, I had you delivered to me for one simple reason: retribution.” Artemis’ hand flew to the now visible baby bump beneath her dirtied tunic. “You did put quite a crimp in my plans, after all, _Tigress_. However, when your condition,” his eyes slid to her abdomen, “became apparent, a new kind of reckoning seized my mind, and the idea has since begun to grow on me. After all, what would be a better against you, against your _League,_ than one of your own raised in the Shadows?”

 

Artemis opened her mouth in an angry retort, but her captor pressed a button out of her field of vision. The glass began to fog once more, although his voice carried behind. “Think on it. You have plenty of time to, after all.”

 

Artemis slumped against the wall, exhausted and uncaring of whatever feed was being looped back to surveillance. _Wally,_ she thought to herself, _give me your strength._ Artemis took a deep breath and calmed herself. She did well under pressure. She had been trained for this.

She reached back to where she head was throbbing and met what she knew to be caked, flaking blood, which she had expected, and winced at her touch against the tender area. Bringing her hand back to her lap, she stared at the ruddy flecks silently before she rubbed the dried blood into dust.

 

It was time to start planning her escape.

* * *

It was some time before anyone returned, but a few hours after her talk with Ra’s a panel opened on the bottom of the glass wall. A tray was gently pushed through, laden with a stable meal, a little paper cup with what looked like a couple of her prenatal vitamins from home, and two glasses of water. A note was folded at the top of the tray next to the vitamin cup. The panel slid closed once more, seeming melting into the glass wall as if it had never existed.

 

During the break in time, Artemis had pieced together what she knew about Infinity Island: located in the Caribbean, staffed by the League of Shadows, multi-layered complex with a Lazarus Pit under the fortress. She estimated herself to be in one of the lower-level containment facilities, which meant that, if she were to escape, she would have to fight her way up to the group level if she wanted a chance to get away, and she would have to do so with a sprained wrist, head injury and possible concussion. Escape did not seem too plausible until she healed more; she estimated, at most, two to five days for her head and concussion, and she could start really using her wrist in about a week’s time. If she wanted to be honest with herself, Artemis knew that she should really rest her sprain for three weeks, but she frankly did not have that luxury. In three weeks, her stomach would be even bigger, making it harder to maneuver and run.

 

Artemis looked down at herself, taking in the slight curve to her belly. As she was currently on her third month, she was just starting to become visibly pregnant. Alas, her lean, mean six-pack was no more. Her doctor had told her at her ten-week check-up on Friday that she should soon start to feel the baby kick, but she had yet to feel the sensation.

 

During her time alone, she had also slowly gathered what she could of the day she had been kidnapped. It had been a Monday, she could remember that, because she had visited a while with Roy and Lian. Jade had been off doing God knows what – even Roy didn’t know, “plausible deniability” he had told Artemis when she had asked – and the visit had last just until lunch, when she had left to meet Zatanna for a late lunch. They had sat at the bistro on the outside patio (she had eaten a cup of soup for her nausea, then told herself _screw it_ and ordered a burger, which she only ate half of, anyway) and caught up. They had parted around two, two-thirty, and Artemis took a shortcut through the park to the zeta tube back to Gotham, where she had been living with her mother at the older woman’s insistence.

 

She does not remember making it to the zeta.

 

The note on the tray drew her attention, and she left her spot on the back wall to approach the food. She cast the pills a dubious glance as she brought the paper up to her eye level. Carefully, she unfolded the letter and settled back on the floor.

 

_Ms. Crock,_

_I hope the accommodations are to your liking. If not, I am certain that the two of us can come to some sort of arrangement regarding your comfort here. I have included a few prenatal supplements with your meal, as well as an additional glass of water. I can arrange for additional medical attention, as well. Women in your condition are fragile, I remind you, so take into consideration my offer for new chambers._

_Ra’s al Ghul_

She crumpled the note in her hand. _Fragile_. Despite her lack of participation in team missions, Artemis still worked with the younger members on conditioning and training in the Watchtower during the weekend. She was still fit, more athletic, in fact, than she had been when she had been going on missions after Wally’s death. She could flip a man three time her weight over her shoulder or break someone’s elbow with two strikes. She could run a mile in under six minutes, then turn around and sprint another four hundred meters. Artemis was not _fragile._

 

She winced at a small stomach cramp and breathed out a sigh. Artemis was not fragile, but her child certainly was. The cell she was currently in held no padding, no facilities. There was no telling how long it would take for her to escape or if there was any outside help looking for her. She could not help but wonder again how long it had been since her abduction – would her mother think that she had stayed in Star City for the night? Did anyone even know that she was missing?

 

Artemis smoothed out the crumpled note, looked into the upper rear corner where she assumed the microcamera was installed and nodded. She would take up Ra’s al Ghul’s offer.

 

The blonde took the tray with her to the back wall and settled in with her food. If she was going to make a bid at escaping, she would need her strength, after all.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Arty needed some rising action aside from being pregnant, because my baby is badass and don't need nobody.
> 
> Comments are received with hugs and tears of joy.


	12. Dick

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jeez, sorry for the mega delay getting this out -- between working this fall and getting back to school this spring, I was caught up in a clusterfuck of things that demanded my attention, and, unfortunately, working on things that I actually enjoyed doing was very low on my priority list. Please accept my apology, and enjoy reading this chapter!

Nightwing sighed heavily, lying precariously over the edge of the dirty brownstone that he had made his perch. All in all, the night had been, so far, uneventful; it seemed as if the petty criminals and drug lords of Blüdhaven were finally getting the message that their… activities were under strict surveillance… or, perhaps, they decided to have an underworld poker night. As much as he was glad that crime in the city was decreasing, Dick hoped for something at least to entertain him during his patrol. Was a purse-snatching too much to ask for? A convenience store robbery? Hell, he would take some littering at that point. He picked absentmindedly at the crumbling mortar and bricks, disturbing a mourning dove which, after giving him what he imagined to be a heavily judgmental once-over, flew from its roost into the foggy night.

The communicator crackled in his ear, and he winced at the sudden noise. Tapping, his earpiece, he opened the channel. “Go for Nightwing.”

“Nightwing,” Barbara’s voice sounded down the line strong and clear, “this is Watchtower. Have you had recent contact with Artemis?”

Dick rolled onto his back and stared at the starless sky. “Arty’s at her mom’s by this time. Is she not answering her cell?” There was a beat of silence. Dick could not tell if it was because of sound delay from the satellites or Batgirl’s hesitance. “Batgirl?”

“No,” finally came the response, “and her mother called Watchtower to ask if she was up here.”

Dick sat up. “Green Arrow? Her sister?”

“Negative on both accounts,” Barbara reported. Dick leapt to a lamppost, swinging off of it like a parallel bar to land on a taller building across the street.

“Zatanna had lunch with her, and Artemis was supposed to go straight home, after,” he muttered into his communicator. “You’ve asked everyone? Called her doctor?” He dropped into a narrow alley, folding into a roll as he landed.

“Dick,” Babs’ voice sounded strained. He opened the door of the decrepit phonebooth and stepped inside. “No one has seen or heard from Artemis in what’s coming up on fourteen hours.”

_“B01 Nightwing.”_

Dick strode onto the bridge and met Barbara’s somber stare. “Let’s get cracking, then.”

Babs nodded, swinging back to the computer. “I’ve also contacted the Wests, but they haven’t seen or heard from her. They talked to Barry, and he’s now zipping around doing God-knows-what.”

Dick placed his hands on the back of the chair, reading the computer screen over Batgirl’s shoulder. “No one’s suing for ransom, no ultimatums, no monologues on world domination?”

“Silence from everyone. Not even a whisper of large-scale criminal activity.”

He stilled, pondering over the young woman’s words. “What about the Shadows? We were tracking their actions in Manila; have they had any recent movements or developments?”

Babs’ fingers flew across her keyboard. She furrowed her brow and twisted her lips when nothing appeared out of the ordinary. “No, nothing. Absolutely no activity.” She spun around, forcing Dick’s hands off of the chair, and crossed her arms across her chest. “Do you think Ra’s has something to do with this?”

“He does have a score to settle with Artemis, what with the infiltration and destruction of the summit meeting,” Babs clenched her fingers, drawing her nails into her biceps, “but he will not harm an innocent. If he did take her, he will have noticed her condition by now, and he will take the appropriate measures not to harm her.” Dick bit the inside of his cheek. “Artemis and her sister were raised as Shadows. There is a likely chance that Ra’s will want to do the same with her kid.” The pair locked gazes, their unspoken fear and worry resounding between them. “We need to find them, Babs,” he murmured quietly, placing a hand over one of hers. She released her grip on her arm to thread their fingers together and squeezed firmly.

“I’ll check satellite imagery around Infinity Island… it’ll show if the last activity there falls within our timeline, and then we’ll go from there,” she soothed, “but we can’t go in without definitely proof.” Dick scowled, a trait he picked up early on from his mentor.

“I promised Wally that I’d take care of her.”

Babs claimed his other hand. “Dick-”

“I _promised_ ,” his voice cracked, and he swallowed quickly to reign in his emotions.

“Hey.” When he ignored her, lost in his thoughts, she tugged on their joined hands. He looked up from his feet and met her startlingly blue eyes. “We’ll get them. Artemis is smart, she knows how to take care of herself. But, until then, I need your head in the game, alright?” Dick nodded, clearing his throat and straightening his shoulders. “Good. Don’t get sullen on me again, it’s not a good look for you,” she teased with a smirk.

Dick snorted lightly. “Whatever would I do without you, Babs?” he grinned.

“Probably wallow in a corner somewhere until someone came to kick you in the ass. Come on,” she released his hands, and Dick found himself immediately missing the contact. “Make yourself useful and pull up a chair. It’ll go faster with more eyes.”

After a few hours of reviewing satellite footage, Babs sat back and rubbed her eyes. An unbidden yawn worked its way up and out of her throat, and she shook her head to clear the sleepiness that fogged her mind. “I’m not seeing anything on my end. We should get in touch with oceanic research programs in the region, see if they have any significant readings on sonar. If she’s on that island, Dick, she didn’t come by boat or air.”

Dick remained focused on his monitor, replaying frames. He narrowed his eyes. “You may be right. See this here?” He pointed to a shadow on the screen. “It was already dark when this photo was taken, so we can’t be certain, but that shadow is heading toward Infinity Island, and its size indicates either a whale or-”

“A submarine,” Babs finished.

“Exactly. Get in contact with who you need to; we need those sonar readings.” He pushed away from the desk.

“Where are you going?”

“Full report on suspicions and activity to primary Leaguers. And most likely Green Arrow, as well.”

“Keeping everyone in the loop, hm?”

“Not everyone,” he sighed, running a hand along his neck and massaging to work out a kink. “If Cheshire gets wind… any potential rescue plan could be compromised. Which means Roy’s out, as well. At least until we have valid information to build off of.”

Babs nodded in agreement. “Do you think Sportsmaster would be of any use?” At Dick’s confused expression, she rolled her eyes. “It _is_ his daughter – and grandchild – at risk, at all.”

Dick frowned. “Maybe. I don’t even know if he knows that Artemis is pregnant. Even then, he’s unpredictable… granted, his reaction to her ‘death’ would indicate he would assist us, but we can’t rely on that alone. Obviously, he has no rejection to raising his children as Shadows, so we can’t really predict what he would think of for Arty’s kid. The possibility’s still good, though, so we’ll put a pin in it for now.”

He gave Babs a wave and directions to keep him updated and retreated to one of the offices on the lower levels to compile his report. After he sent off copies to his mentor and other Leaguers, he sat back and folded his hands in his lap. The blue light of the computer illuminated his face in the otherwise dark room, making the creases of his frown seem deeper than they were. A dialogue box appeared onscreen, announcing a call from his adopted father.

“Computer, accept transmission,” he murmured tiredly. He ran a weary hand over his mouth as Batman’s face filled the screen. “This is a quick response, Bats.”

“I decided to talk directly with you. What’s the situation?”

Dick scowled. “Didn’t you read the report?”

He could feel Bruce’s impatience even through space. “Nightwing.”

“Batgirl is contacting institutions with oceanography and marine biology programs in the vicinity of Infinity Island to determine the nature of our shadow. Honestly, the chances that it is a submarine is pretty low, but it’s the only lead we have right now. We have no other suspects, no surveillance of her abduction, and no witnesses. We’re working off of a hunch.”

Batman was silent for a moment before sighing. “It’s better than nothing. I will check with come contacts, see if there’s any chatter.”

Dick smirked tiredly. “Uh-huh. Give Selena my best.” Batman glared at him through the videofeed. “Batgirl is letting me know of any new developments. In the meantime-”

“Get some sleep.”

Dick froze before leaning forward slowly. “ _Excuse me_?”

“You’ll be useless if you investigate this all night. You have nothing to go on, no leads to chase down. Go. To. Sleep. If you really want to help Artemis, which I have complete faith that you do, you will rest so that you can focus on her investigation to the best of your abilities.”

The young man fell back into his chair once more. “I don’t live with you, anymore. You don’t have to treat me like a child.”

“Then don’t act like one. Batman out.” The feed closed, leaving Dick staring at a blank screen. He yawned, and, grudgingly acknowledging the wisdom of Bruce’s words, sent a transmission to Babs and retired to the on-call bunks. If he wanted to find Artemis, he would have to be fresh and awake, to focus his entire attention on his work.

 And he _would_ find Artemis.


	13. Artemis

During her time as a vigilante, Artemis learned that there were two types of villains: the kind that monologue endlessly about their master plan, world in their control, so on and so forth, giving away their entire hand and giving the captured victim or hero the chance to escape easily; and the kind that put a solid colored bag over your head for transportation, did not speak at all, and walked the prisoner in circles so that they would be unable to discern the maze that was the lair. Unfortunately for Artemis, Ra’s was of the second school of thought.

Her feet were finally beginning to ache when the bag was quickly removed, and she had to shut her eyes against the harsh return of the light. After a few blinks, her vision returned, and she took in her new prison cell.

Surprisingly enough, the “cell” looked more like a half-suite in some middle-tier hotel chain. The room was very obviously in the upper levels, as a window shed light across the majority of the plush cream carpet. A door lead to an ensuite, and several bookshelves lined the walls. A miniature refrigerator sat next to a walnut desk in the corner.

“The Great One dearly hopes that these accommodations are to your liking, Ms. Crock. His generosity is greater than anyone would likely afford someone of your status,” the Shadow to her left simultaneously lauded and sneered. “Midday meal will be served at half-past noon.” Artemis did not know how she would be able to know when noon was, considering the walls were bare of any clock. “Please,” the Shadow sounded almost in pain, “let us know if there is anything else you will require.” His face screwed up as if the words actually tasted sour in his mouth.

“Do thank the Great One for me.” Artemis walked over to the window, brushing aside the curtains to look out. There were no bars, but the sheer drop to the rocky shallows gave her pause. “And I do, in fact have a request.”

The Shadow that had initially spoken to her glanced despairingly at one of the others in the transport party. “Proceed,” he drawled.

“Any chance for a Jacuzzi to be installed in the near future?”

His face screwed up again. “ _Good day_ , Ms. Crock. I dearly hope I will not need to see you again.” He waved a hand, and all but one of the transport party left the suite. A Shadow entered a code in a wall panel and settled in the chair situated next to the door. Artemis noted the tell-tale sound of a magnetic locking mechanism.

“Access will be granted only when the guard outside and myself enter the passcode into our respective panels,” she explained dryly, a hint of an accent gracing her words. “The code changes twice daily.” She sat like a statue, and silence stretched between them. Artemis hummed discontentedly and continued the thorough investigation of her rooms. After perusing the contents of the bathroom medicine cabinet for the second time (mostly muscle creams and hygiene products), she released a heavy sigh and turned to the Shadow.

Artemis leaned back against the bathroom counter, arms crossed comfortably across her chest. She stared at the motionless woman and raised an eyebrow. “So, are you here for conversational purposes, or are you going to just give a completely believable and accurate impersonation of a rock?”

“I will answer pertinent queries, but nothing more,” was the stiff reply, and Artemis rolled her eyes. She perched herself at the foot of the bed – pillow-top, nicer than her one in Gotham and maybe even the one back in Palo Alto – and stared at the Shadow. She stared right back.

“How do I know when meals are if I don’t know the time?”

“Midday meal will be served in forty minutes.”

Artemis hummed again before rising and approaching the bookshelf. It was filled mostly with classics (she almost laughed when she read the spine for Sun Tzu’s _Art of War_ and Machiavelli’s _The Prince_ ) and a few pregnancy manuals. The bottom shelf held mythology anthologies, and she pulled a Greek collection with which to snuggle into bed. Her next stop was to bend down to look inside the mini fridge, and, while she was not expecting a mini bar with complimentary dark chocolates, Artemis was disappointed to find that the only contents were bottles of water and a few assorted citrus fruit. She grabbed a lemon and straightened up, holding the fruit up to catch the Shadow’s eye. “Citruses?”

“Your blood volume expands by up to fifty percent during pregnancy. You will need slightly more electrolytes to keep the extra fluid in the right chemical balance. This can be achieved by squeezing the citrus juice into your water.”

“And how am I supposed to do that if I have nothing to cut with?”

“If any slicing is necessary, I do believe I shall be able to assist you.” Artemis hummed in response before replacing the lemon and grabbing a water bottle. “This punishment is wrought from your own betrayal of the Great One. Do not think that you can escape this, child, and do not attempt to.”

The young woman turned her steely stare on the shadow, holding her gaze firmly. “I would never put my child in danger. Know that.” Her guard studied her and slowly nodded at the honesty in her voice. Artemis took her prizes and returned to the bed, bracing her back against the wall. Silently, she flipped through the anthology until she landed on Thetis and Achilles.

 _There is no greater danger than Ra’s al Ghul,_ she traced her fingers over the print, _and I will do what I must to remove my child from that danger._   _But a lay of the land is needed before anything else... an unprepared escapee is a dead escapee, Dad always said. He had his fatherly moments, I guess._

Artemis continued reading until a short, alerting beep sounded through the room. The shadow at the door rose from her seat and typed a numerical sequence – Artemis counted nine key strokes, though she did not bother trying to run the probability (she never truly understood the Counting Principle in middle school, and Wally was – had been – the math whiz between the two, anyway) – into her own panel. A second beep, this time affirming in tone, sounded, and the door opened to allow another guard into the room, carrying a tray which held, she assumed, her lunch. The guard, this one older than any in her escort party and unmasked, set the tray down on the desk and turned to face her.

“I am to wait until you have consumed your lunch and ensure that you take your necessary vitamins.”

“How courteous of you. Now, what do we have here?” She looked down at the contents of the tray and placed her hands on her hips. “Well, this isn’t the pecan-encrusted salmon I ordered. Let the kitchen know I am deeply disappointed.” A spark of amusement lit his eyes, and the Shadow nodded.

“I will do just that, Ms. Crock. However, in the meantime, please eat your meatloaf.”

Artemis plopped into the desk chair, took her fork and prodded the meal. “Yes, I had better do that before it eats _me_.” Despite her griping, she was quite hungry, and she could hear her stomach growl. She dug into the meal, which, to her surprise, was not too hard to swallow. Once she had cleaned the plate under the guard’s watchful gaze, she threw back the provided vitamins and washed them down with her already-opened water bottle. “Happy?”

“Elated. If you would excuse me,” the guard gathered the now empty tray and returned to the door, where the female Shadow rose to allow him exit.

Once again, the room contained only the two women. Artemis returned to the bed and lied down. “Do you get a relief, or are you my roommate for the time being? That’s a pertinent enough question, right?”

“I am your day guard,” the Shadow admitted, her posture unmoving. “Another will take my place in the evening to last through the night, so you need not be alarmed should you awake to find another in my place in the morning. For your comfort, any interior guard will be female.”

“I see. Thank you, that’ll be all for now,” Artemis murmured as she turned down the covers of her bed. “I’ll be taking a nap. Growing a human being is tiring work.”

“Indeed.”

Artemis rolled her eyes at the Shadow and turned her back to the door. She had not lying – she was exhausted already and had every intention of sleeping. However, she had already began forming a plot to escape in her mind, and she expected to ponder on the idea until sleep took her.

She was awoken at dinner, and the same guard as before delivered her food. There was a twinkle in his eye as he placed the tray before her, and she noted an additional dish to the entrée and the ramekin containing her supplements.

“Unfortunately, I could not procure any pecans for you, Ms. Crock, but enjoy these walnuts in their stead. They are said to be quite good for pregnancy.”

Gazing at the older man, she wondered at his kindness. Had she met him before? Was he this kind to all his prisoners? She eyed the touches of grey at his temples and the salt-and-pepper of the rest of his hair. Perhaps he had helped another through a pregnancy. A wife? A daughter? “Thank you,” she said, sincerely touched. He smiled in return. “Can I have your name?”

“You can call me Aqil, Ms. Crock.”

“Will you always bring me my meals, Aqil?”

“Yes, you can expect me every mealtime.” Gesturing to the plate, he allowed a small smile to grace his lips. “If you would please.” Artemis nodded and started in on her dinner. She glanced out of the corner of her eye to the guard. Perhaps she was not as alone here as she had originally thought.

A loud thumping and yelling sounded through her door, and, though she turned toward it, she could not make out the muffled argument through the steel. Neither Aqil or her stony friend by the entrance gave any mind to the kerfuffle, it seemed, though the former gave her a long-suffering look.

“This happens quite often as of late, I’m afraid. Children will be children, I suppose, even if they are raised in the Shadows.” Artemis opened her mouth to retort that she, growing up under the Shadow’s influence, had never been allowed to act out or throw tantrums, when a tell-tale beep sounded, and her guard punched in her own combination with a sigh. The doors slid open, and Artemis’ eyebrows shot up to her hairline.

A young boy, around maybe four or five years old and garbed in finer clothes than anyone else in the organization, stomped into the chambers, shot a condescending glare toward Aqil and planted his small fists on his tiny hips. “And _who_ are _you_?” he demanded, looking Artemis straight in the eye. Aqil heaved a sigh.

“Are you allowed to be in here? This isn’t exactly a place for kids to hang out,” Artemis retorted, honestly surprised the guards at her door let the little brat in. What kind of ship were they running here?

The boy’s face reddened; he was obviously not used to being questioned. “I am _not_ a kid! And I am allowed to go anywhere I want! This’ll be mine, one day!”

“Is that so?” she plucked one of her treats out of the ramekin, popping it smoothly into her mouth. “What’s your name, _kid_?”

“You will treat me with respect! It is my destiny to lead the Shadows one day, and, when I do, _everyone_ will fear the name Damian Wayne!”

Artemis choked on her walnut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, it looks like our favorite little shit is going to be included in this mess! But I ask you, what isn't better with a little bit of Damian Wayne?


	14. Artemis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Life happens. Have some fic.

Even though the early autumn sun beat down on her face heavily, Artemis felt cool enough against the green lawn of the campus park. She rolled onto her stomach and propped herself up on her elbows, narrowing her eyes at the figure sitting cross-legged in front of her.

“I still think you should consider it. You could MacGyver an EMP at fifteen; you’d blow everyone else out of the water, _especially_ those East Coast Ivy brats.”

He snorted inelegantly as he jotted something down in his notes before flipping back through his textbook. A light breeze tossed his hair, and she wondered when he last had a haircut. “Babe, I think we both know that the only person that has a chance of beating me is that chick from Rice, but it’s still national cable. College Jeopardy is just not in the cards for former, now-retired-but-still-keeping-a-low-profile superheroes.” He paused thoughtfully, looking up from his notebook to tap his pen against his mouth, accidentally leaving a blue ink stain. “Though we could use a new car.”

Artemis rolled her eyes so hard she was afraid they might fall out right then and there. “You hardly have any use for a car, Wally.” She reached up and smoothed away the ink, and she took the chance to flick him lightly on the cheek.

The redhead threw a lopsided smile her way, wriggling his eyebrows in a goofy manner that made her work hard to keep from laughing. “It’s a guy thing, babe. What about you? It’s not like you can zip to the store and back in no time flat.”

“That’s what I’ve got you for, isn’t it?” she teased and returned his broad grin with one of her own. She had to bite her bottom lip to keep from chuckling at his faux-hurt expression.

“Arty! Now, that there’s a low blow!”

She leaned in toward him and plucked the notes from his lap. “But true nevertheless, right?”

“But true nevertheless,” he acquiesced with a put-upon sigh that came across as more endearing than anything else, “and you’ll never be without me.” He dropped a quick peck to her lips, smiled, and pressed in for another tender kiss. “I am forever your environmentally-friendly mode of transportation.”

“I’m not quite convinced that your metabolism is a sustainable alternative,” Artemis hummed happily, “but I think I can live with that.”

* * *

Her eyes slid open, automatically blinking away the tears gathered at her lashes. Such dreams had become more common since she had discovered her pregnancy, and, at the beginning, they were almost too much to handle. Now, though, she welcomed them when they came, and she could almost still feel the California sun warming her skin, could almost still feel his smile press against her own.

A glance out her window told her it was before dawn, though her internal clock told her sunrise was not far off. Before she could think any more on the new day, however, her stomach roiled violently, and she shot toward the available ensuite as fast as her stumbling feet could carry her.

Artemis closed her eyes after she flushed the toilet and leaned back against the wall. She patiently reminded herself that she only had a few more weeks of the sickness – at most, according to her doctor, _thank god_ – before she would no longer have to acquaint herself with the closest porcelain throne in her vicinity. She pulled a face at the acrid taste in her mouth. Where was one of those water bottles when she needed one?

“Ah,” she murmured to herself, spying the water next to her bed, “come to Arty.” She heaved herself off the floor, bracing against the wall for balance, and retrieved the bottle. Swishing the water around in her mouth, she noticed the new guard manning the door eying her with a mix of fright and disgust. Artemis spat into the sink. “I assume that you’re the one who will creepily watch me sleep for the duration of my stay at Chez Infinity?”

Before the guard could respond, the key pad behind her beeped, and she dutifully entered her own code to allow entry to the visitor. The door opened, and Aqil strode in, tray covered in a breakfast that, while appetizing, Artemis had zero confidence of retaining after the unsettling start of her day. A sullen but curious Damian strutted in behind him, taking in Artemis’ disheveled appearance with a huff.

“How you expect to be taken seriously when you present yourself in such a manner I have no idea,” the boy sneered, and Artemis contemplated nailing the brat with the empty water bottle in her hand. Instead, she tossed it in the small waste bin and decided to ignore the child completely.

“Good morning, Aqil. Thank you for the breakfast, but I’m afraid I won’t be able to keep much of it down,” she croaked out, her throat still sore from her stomach bile.

“Ah, yes,” the elder man smiled, “the miracle of life seems much less miraculous until the morning sickness is done and over with. I think that you’ll find the ginger tea might help remedy that.” He sat the tray on the desk as he had the other mealtimes before and stepped back, obviously intent on carrying out his directive to wait until she had finished eating.

Artemis sighed and took her place at the desk. At least she could start with the tea, then move from there. She was fortunate enough that the bouts of nausea had now limited themselves to the mornings, as the name would suggest, rather than the ‘round the clock surprises that they initially presented themselves as.

Damian, obviously unaccustomed to being shunted to the side, marched back up to her side. “What makes you so special, anyway? You didn’t answer me last night, and, when I ask something, I _demand_ to be informed.”

“I got the drop on your beloved Grandpappy, and he almost died from his embarrassment,” she retorted over the rim of her mug. “Literally.”

The boy gasped indignantly, throwing a hand out in a fit of tantrum. “Impossible! Grandfather is the best warrior in the world! Someone like _you_ has no chance of defeating him!”

“The greater a person is, the longer are the shadows they cast. And as someone raised in the Shadows, I find myself quite at home, there,” Artemis finally turned to look at the boy. “Whatever Kool-Aid they’ve been filling your sippy cup with, kid, just remember that.”

He spluttered, unable to come up with a response, when the female guard at the door cleared her throat in interruption. “It would behoove you not to speak of the Great One in such a manner. He is our lord and master, and _as someone raised in the Shadows_ , it would do you well to keep that in mind.” Her words, like those of her previous guard, were tinged with a hint of an accent, though not heavy enough that Artemis could discern its origin.

Artemis glared at the woman. The kid, especially if he was the Bat’s son, needed to hear something other than Shadows propaganda from _someone_. “I’ve never liked Kool-Aid. It stains everything it touches bright red.”

The woman rose, about to protest, when Aqil intervened. “I believe you should attempt to eat something before it cools off,” he suggested. “Hot cereal is meant to be eaten hot. It becomes quite unappetizing, otherwise.” She did as he requested and took a few bites of the oatmeal before glancing over at the boy. He had stayed quiet since the guard spoke, and she could practically see the cogs turning in the kid’s head. The boy was obviously quite sharp – if not completely misinformed and indoctrinated with the League of Assassins’ bullshit – and something she said must have given him pause.

“Hey, kid,” he looked up in time to catch the orange headed at his face. He stared at the fruit in confusion.

“I already ate.”

“A little extra vitamin C never hurt anybody, especially kids your age.” She took another bite of quickly-cooling oats. Damian blinked a few times before digging his thumb into the peel. “Damian,” he looked up, “what do you say when someone gives you something?”

The guard snorted, “The young master needs not _thank_ –”

“Thank you,” he murmured under his breath, stuffing an orange slice into his mouth almost immediately after the words passed his lips.

“You’re welcome.” _There’s hope for the kid yet_.

* * *

The boy stayed until a messenger came to relay his grandfather’s request of his presence for training. He scampered off, but not without a backwards glance at Artemis, who continued to pick her way through the contents of her breakfast slowly. As soon as the door slid to a close behind him, the guard stood from her place and stalked swiftly to the desk. “You _will_ cease spouting such lies and obscenities in the presence of the young master! If you _were_ raised in the Shadows like you claim, you _will not_ taint him with your traitorous drivel!” Her accent came out stronger now, coloring her words with her anger. She loomed over her seated prisoner, but failed in her attempt to intimidate. Artemis looked more bemused than anything as she nibbled on a walnut.

“I forgot just how brainwashed you lackeys are. It’s almost embarrassing to watch, to be completely honest.”

The guards face turned red. “You–!” Aqil put a hand on guard’s shoulder and lightly forced her back several paces. She paled at the stern look on his face and kept her trembling fists by her side.

“While your devotion is noted, Shadow, your overzealousness is, as well. Perhaps you would do well to remember your training.” Though phrased as a suggestion, the command was clear: calm down, or you will be made to. “Regardless, I believe someone else might be better suited for this post from now on. Please, report to your commander and have her send a replacement.”

The guard glared at Artemis as she moved back to the key pad, entering the code. When the second beep sounded and she opened the door, Artemis spoke up. “South Rhelasia.”

“Excuse me?” the other woman responded, turning back to the room. The open door allowed Artemis to peak into the hallway, and she counted four guards – one on either side of the door, two across from it – waiting outside. She quickly took note of their weaponry and concluded that it was the standard issue weapons pack for each of them.

“Your accent. You’re from South Rhelasia, and I’d say somewhere in the northeastern region of Keoul,” Artemis continued. “Keoul is primarily an agricultural region – not too impoverished, but not exactly flourishing, either. Enough food and water to ensure healthy selections, but the residents are not educated enough to know that there are other options other than farming or getting into the murder business. I’d say that those are pretty ripe conditions for Shadows recruitment. Congrats, you have given away valuable information just by opening your mouth.” The guard’s face was about as red as a tomato, so Artemis just gave her a small smile and a little wave of her fingers. “You really should work on eliminating the accent. I’d say that it’s a detriment to your chosen profession.”

The guard slammed the door behind her, and the blonde returned to snacking on her walnuts. She caught Aqil’s unamused expression. “What? It was just some professional advice.”

“Your stay might go a bit smoother with your cooperation, Ms. Crock.”

She raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t ask to be abducted, Aqil. I’m pregnant, and a crazy old man is plotting devious things for my child. I think I’m allowed to be a bit uncooperative in this situation.” _That_ , she reflected internally, _and living with Kid Mouth for an extended period of time must have rubbed off some of his obnoxious behavior on her._

A small smile quirked the corner of the man’s mouth. “Fair enough. Please take your supplements.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN UPDATE! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!  
> In other news, thank you all of y'all who continued to read and comment on this fic during its break - those comments were a nice kick in the butt to get things moving again, and I do look forward to everything y'all say in your comments!


	15. Wally

Wally knew – as soon as he could know anything, really – that he was trapped in the riptide that was the Speedforce. He was ashamed to say that he did not know much of the mechanics of the source of his speed; really, he only knew what his uncle had told him, warnings against going too fast, of losing control and falling into the Speedforce’s siren song. He figured, when he left the superhero gig, that it he would never come close to seeing that boundary, much less touch it, but there he was, speeding down the corridors of the force. In Becoming again, he had had to slow down, particle by particle, to even grasp his sense of being, but deep in his gut he knew that he had hit a metaphorical wall. 

Swept up with the Speedforce’s current, he could spy glimpses into other worlds and other times, could feel other speedsters tap into the fount of their power, and he could do nothing but continue to run with no end in sight. Once or twice, he could have sworn he was not alone in the slipstream, but the feeling lasted only a few moments before being whisked away on the wind. It was one such instance that Wally felt him before he saw him. For that matter, he heard him before he saw him, too.

The stream shifted around him, accommodating the new speedster as he streaked forward to join Wally. “Hey, hey, kid! The hell are you doing in here?”

Wally rolled his eyes. It figured that the first thing he would hear after god knows how long was _that_ nickname. He was a full grown (kinda), responsible (not really) adult (questionable), for crying out loud!

“Oh, you know, just out for an afternoon stroll.”

“Yeah, yeah, sure, smartass,” the man chuckled lightly, and when Wally looked at him, he did an honest to god double-take at the crimson suit. 

“Barry?”

The man frowned. “What? No, man, I’m the _Flash_. You know, fastest man alive, crime-stopper extraordinaire? Founding member of the League?”

“Obviously,” Wally muttered to himself and shook his head. Not the Flash from his dimension, then. He sighed.

The man scrutinized him carefully. “How long’ve you been in here, kid?”

“I don’t know,” Wally admitted. “I can’t stop running.” A weight seemed to pull at his chest. “I’m so tired.” As heavy as he felt, the words came out hollow.

The Flash’s mouth dropped open, but he very nearly stumbled before he could say anything. At Wally’s look, he looked bashful. “Sorry,” he mumbled with a shrug, “I normally don’t stay this long in the Speedforce.”

Wally nodded in understanding. From what he understood from Barry, most jaunts into the Speedforce lasted mere seconds.

He was the exception.

“So, Globetrotter, what do I call you? Nice get-up, by the way.”

Wally smiled humorlessly. “Kid Flash.”

“No kidding.” The Flash released a huff of laughter. “Ah, multiverse,” he relented. “Weird. So what, you decided to pick up some cardio or something? Because I know I’ve felt you around the last couple of times of been in the neighborhood.”

“Saved the world from destruction, and all I got was this lousy vacation.”

“Been there, bud.” The Flash held out for a fistbump, which Wally gladly gave.

“This is actually the first conversation I’ve had since,” Wally admitted. Since when? Who knew how long it had taken him to reform? He could still feel the residual energy of the bomb running over his skin in waves.

The Flash seemed to flicker for a moment, and Wally panicked. What if this was his last conversation with a living being? Sure, he could keep himself entertained, but even he was pressed to do so for, oh, _say an eternity_. “Looks like my time is running out, Kid.” The Flash sighed. “I’ll be back, though. I couldn’t just leave you in here. Any last words before I jet?”

Wally suddenly felt the impulse to tell this Flash everything – the team, the league, Stanford, _Artemis_ – but instead settled on only one.

“Wally.”

“What?” The Flash looked surprised.

“That’s my name. Wally West.”

The man beside him let out a startled laugh. He reached up and pulled down his red cowl. “Nice to meet you, Wally. I’m Wally, too.” His grin reach up to his green eyes, and Wally ran a hand through his own shock of red hair. The Flash flickered again.

“Multiverse,” the Flash repeated with the shake of his head. “Weird.” Then Wally was alone again.

He kept running.

* * *

 

He kept running. 

He kept singing songs in his head, too, but then they just started to loop, and there’s _only so many times_ he could replay the lyrics to “I’m Gonna Be” before he contemplated ending the Proclaimers for good. So the songs ended.

Instead, he thought about how life was carrying on back home. Surely school had started up again, and Artemis had some credits to catch up on since her “death” pulled her out of the spring semester early. He’d have to do the same when ( _if_ , a small voice echoed in the back of his mind, _if_ ) he came back. He is sure the League could whip something up like a coma-causing car accident or something – he was so close to his degree, he could almost _taste it_. He knew, though, that academics wouldn’t be quite as smooth as before. All it took was a taste of the action, and both he and Artemis had been pulled back into the world-saving business.

He thought about all those other worlds he passed, and the Wally West he had met in the Speedforce. Did that Wally have an Artemis, too? Did she escape the Shadows in his world, or was she a villain like her father before her? Did she even exist? Out of all those worlds, he hoped that all the Wallys out there had Artemises, or someone that made them just as happy. Sheesh, he was getting sappy.

Screw it, he had earned the right to be sappy.

He hoped she was still wearing his ring.

Wally rubbed a quick hand over his face, halfheartedly wiping the tears that had gathered on his lashes.

He kept running.  

* * *

He was prepared when Flash returned, felt the Speedforce wrap around him once more as he raced to join Wally’s pace.

“Hey, Wally!”

Wally smirked. “Hey, Wally.”

“Sorry to make you wait, man. It takes a little while to invent stuff like this, you know?” The other looked apologetic under his mask, which made Wally vaguely wonder how long the Flash had actually been away, but what drew Wally’s attention was what looked like a metal baby carrier strapped to the Flash’s chest. He raised an eyebrow and pointed at the contraption.

“Did you get pulled away from babysitting?”

The Flash laughed sarcastically. “Ha ha, yes, we’re so funny. Don’t knock it, dude, I’ve got one for you, too.” He pushed a similar device at Wally, who took it with a little hesitation.

He turned it over in his hands a couple of times. The four “arms” extending from the central unit freaked him out, to be completely honest. “And this thing does what now?”

“You know how this multiverse thing works, right? I assume we’re just as much of a beautiful genius in all the worlds out there.”

Wally nodded, examining the device. The circuitry inside looked intricate and exact, but unlike anything he had ever seen. “Infinite number of worlds existing in the same place in space, vibrating at different frequencies.”

“Basically. So you and I are vibrating at different frequencies, and if I’m gonna yank you out of the force, I’m going to have to match our frequencies. These,” he knocked on the device on his own chest, “are going to make up the difference.”

Wally snapped his attention back to the Flash. “Yank me out? You mean-”

“Yeah, man, you’re due for a long nap and a super high-calorie meal or two. We’ll see what we can get the cafeteria to whip up. Sound good.”

It took a moment for Wally to get his voice to work, but he finally croaked out a soft, “yeah.”

“Cool. Let’s get you in this thing.” Wally pressed the device to his front, and it must have had a sensor of some type because it tightened its arms over his shoulders and ribs. The Flash tapped something on the side of his gadget, and Wally felt his start to sync up. The Flash firmly grasped Wally’s forearm, a gesture which Wally returned. “Hold on tight,” he cautioned, “re-entry might be bumpy.” Wally hardly had time to nod before he felt the sharp pull somewhere in his chest.

He felt himself skip a step, then another; he felt the Speedforce warp around him, trying to pull him back inside its racing current.

Then, he was out, and he hardly felt the metal floor before he collapsed onto his knees. He felt a hand land gently on his shoulder.

“Hey, Kid Flash,” the Flash greeted. “Welcome to Earth.” Wally snorted before he began to fade into unconsciousness.

He’d stopped running.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lookit there, we've got the other half of our otp back! A bit out of reach, though...


	16. Damian

Damian awoke as he did every day: before the sun, while the world had yet to pull itself from the cloak of night. His attendant dressed him silently, smoothing the blacks and grays over his small form. He glared down at the starchy fabric as it scratched his skin. He felt weighed down by the tones, like he was swallowed by the early morning itself. He supposed that was the point. He choked down his breakfast with a sour expression.

After performing his morning training routine, he wandered about the fortress. His morning tutor had strongly implied that he should be spending his downtime in practice or lessons, but Damian had chosen to ignore his suggestion in favor of a newer, more interesting subject.

The prisoner, if she was to be believed, had somehow gotten the upper hand on a fight with his grandfather. Obviously, considering her imprisonment, she had not _maintained_ that advantage, but the idea that she was strong enough to be in that situation could only mean that she was a great warrior, herself. He caught whispers around the island, typically traded before he entered a room and was noticed.

_The Tigress infiltrated the Light for months, working to undermine their operations under their noses._

_The Tigress led raids on and destroyed seven outposts after the Reach left._

_You don’t see the Tigress until she’s upon you._

_The Tigress. The Tigress._

_The Tigress works with the Bat._

Damian swallowed. 

Perhaps his tutor was right – he _should_ be spending his downtime more productively.  

He made his way up to her plush cell, through labyrinthine passageways and staircases he could walk blinded, and indicated to the guards to let him enter. They did so, of course; he was their superior, after all. He strode into the room, expecting to be met once again with the sight of the woman up and about, all quick words and judging eyes, but instead entered a still silence.

The woman had yet to rise from the bed, a concept that thoroughly confused Damian. Did she expect to sleep the whole morning away? The sun had already risen over the horizon; by all accounts she should be awake and active. He huffed and made his way to the bed anyway, hopping lightly on top of the blankets to size-up the prisoner.

For such as great warrior, she was mighty unassuming. Her muscles were soft, unlike the corded strength he saw in the Shadows day in and day out. Her middle was growing thick, as well. She had not been prisoner long enough for that to happen. When had she stopped training?

She shifted in her sleep, curling around herself with a soft sound. He peered closer. Were those… tears? Damian sat back in disbelief. Adults did not cry, Grandfather had said so himself. Tears were a sign of weakness, and absolutely _not_ befitting the heir to the organization, much less a proper soldier.

Damian almost jumped when the prisoner bolted upright, a soft cry escaping her lips. A gasped sob followed it immediately, and then a choked-back gag. Without even acknowledging the boy at the end of her bed, she leapt up and made a mad dash for the bathroom. Damian scrunched his nose in disgust at the noises and decided not to investigate as she vomited her sick into the toilet.

Eventually, she emerged again, looking haggard and wiping evidence of her tears from her cheeks. “Damian, was it? What do you want?”

He ignored her question. “You are poor entertainment.”

“Sorry to disappoint you,” she muttered as she slid back under her sheets. “Wasn’t aware I had an audience, so maybe that’d your fault. Come back later, maybe I’ll juggle some oranges like a circus clown.” He narrowed his eyes at her sarcasm.

“Here I thought you were supposed to be some great _warrior_. Seeing as you were just crying like a _child_ , I must have been lied to,” Damian sniped, swinging his legs off the side of the mattress. The prisoner covered her face with her pillow and groaned softly into the covered goose down, the complaint of _It’s too early for this_ hardly muffled. She sat up slowly again, wincing at some slight pain, and rubbed a hand against her red eyes.

“Listen, kid,” her voice was groggy with sleep, and she cleared her throat before starting again. Damian folded his arms across his chest. “I’ve forgotten more about fighting then you’ll ever learn,” he snorted. _Doubtful_ , “but even the greatest warriors can’t train away their emotions. Ignore them, maybe, but erase them entirely? It’s part of being human.”

_I’ve seen it done_ , he thought of the drills and trials of his Grandfather’s assassins. _Grandfather told me it can happen!_ He opened his mouth to say as much, but the woman darted forward and clapped a hand over his lips. _How dare-!_ “I don’t give a sh– _crap_ what your so-called ‘destiny’ is or what you are heir to or what whoever told you, you’re still just a spoiled little kid.” His bright eyes glared at her in indignation, but he felt his lips turn into pout under her palm. Judging by the softening of her gaze, she felt them, too. “Now, why exactly are you in my room before I’ve even woken up?” She dropped her hand, and, when Damian did not offer up an explanation, he felt her kick him softly from beneath the covers. “Speak, kiddo.”

“It’s not like you have anything better to do than to entertain me,” Damian grumbled sulkily and cast his gaze out the window. Only the blue sky and a few gulls were visible from his position, but he still found a tightness in his chest as he watched the birds dip in and out of his sight. He drew his legs back onto the bed, and he laid his head on his knees. Her analyzing gaze prickled his skin, and he knew his true intentions were bubbling up his throat, waiting to be given voice. He mumbled them, quietly enough that he half-hoped she would not hear. “Some Shadows said that you know my father.”

Her severe look relaxed, and he curled closer to his knees at the idea that anyone would look at _him_ with anything close to pity. “I know him very well,” she offered. After a moment, she continued, “and your brothers, too.”

Damian sat up more eagerly that he would ever admit to and quickly moved to sit against the headboard beside her. He never knew his family to be larger than Mother, Grandfather, and the empty place he hoped his father to one day occupy. “Tell me about them!” he demanded, earnest excitement coloring his commandment in a manner he knew would be looked down upon by his grandfather. The woman smirked at him, though he could not tell if it was in amusement or superiority.

He decided, for once, that it didn’t matter, and he didn’t care.

“Magic word?” He stared blankly at her. He didn’t know any magic. “When you are someone to do something for you, you have to do so politely,” she admonished, and Damian felt an embarrassed flush rise in his cheeks.

“I am the grandson of Ra’s Al–” he stopped himself when the woman next to him gave an unimpressed look. He drew his knees up to his chest again and glanced at the stoic Shadow sitting by the door. The Shadow was to watch the prisoner, yes, but he doubted that reports on him wouldn’t make it to his grandfather, too. His eyes returned to the prisoner, wide and pleading. “Please?” he whispered, only loud enough for her to hear. She grinned, and he startled when she stroked a hand through his hair before reveling in the comfort of the feeling.

“Your father has a large heart, though he’d never admit to it. He’s helped a lot of people and doesn’t hesitate to give them the family they deserve, though the first would be your eldest brother, who now goes by the name of Nightwing. He started off, however, as the first Robin, and he began fighting alongside your dad when he was only a little older than you are now,” she continued to speak, and he leaned against her shoulder as she continued to card her fingers through his hair.

It felt good, and he listened intently as she fleshed out the figures of his unknown family. His heart sank at the knowledge that he would never meet the second Robin, and he made a mental note to remember the name of the man who took his brother before he ever knew him. _Joker_. What an absurd name for someone so dangerous.

When she finished, he looked at her quizzically. “What is a robin, anyway?”

“It’s a type of bird.” His eyes flashed out the window, catching on the bright white figures of the seagulls riding the breeze.

“A bird…” He absently heard her agreeing hum.

They sat in silence for a while, until a knock broke the silence and Aqil was let in with the prisoner’s breakfast. She rose from the bed to greet him, but Damian stayed put. As far as underlings went, Aqil was alright, but Damian had no need for him at the moment. He watched Aqil hand over a cup, which the woman made a face at before downing and immediately reaching for a bottle of water. “What was that?” He asked the woman as she took a pull from the drink.

“Vitamins,” Aqil responded succinctly, but Damian rolled his eyes. _Didn’t ask_ you _,_ he mentally grumbled, but didn’t want the glare he knew he’d receive from the woman. “Master Damian, you should begin your regimen for the day. I believe your grandfather is waiting for you in the Great Courtyard.”

Damian huffed and crossed his arms. He didn’t _want_ to go to lessons – he didn’t know why he felt like he had to remain here, with this woman he didn’t even know the name of. Was it because she had answers to questions he didn’t even know how to voice?

“Tell you what, kid,” he glanced up to her. A smile played around her lips, like she knew something he didn’t. “You can come back and visit me later, and I can tell you more about the little birds.”

“Really?” He wished his voice had not come out so hopeful, but he was. _Hopeful_ , that is.

“It’s not like I’m going anywhere,” she laughed at her own joke, and he had to suppress his own smile in return. He jumped off the bed and made his way to the door until she called after him. “Bye, Damian.”

“Goodbye,” he grumbled, and made his way to where he knew his grandfather would be. The corridors to the courtyard were empty and cool, a contrast to the humid heat he knew to be waiting for him outside.

He squinted his eyes against the beating rays of the sun as he entered the Great Courtyard. Dozens of Shadows sparred against one another, each clad in the weighty black fatigues identical to the soldier next to them.

Damian’s mind flitted to the brightly colored suits the prisoner described and wondered how light those reds and yellows would feel against his skin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What?!?!?! I'm alive??!?!?!


	17. Artemis

She watched the child stalk out of the room, the weary walk of all children headed to their lessons. She knew his to be a world apart from other children his age; instead of running around a playground, he would be running an obstacle course. Sword lessons would replace those in cursive, and stealth instruction would take the place of story time. Artemis knew what that childhood was like – cold and alienating, constantly striving for and falling short of some twisted approval that took the place of parental affection. Children of the Shadows were rarely well-adjusted.

Damian was young enough to break out of their mold, and his curiosity was the key. Underneath the boy’s bravado lay a sheltered child, looking to gleam any piece of information about his missing family. Her thoughts had gone immediately to her own child, growing up with only secondhand knowledge of his or her father. She could see it in the way Damian absorbed her stories with wide eyed wonder, and his disbelief reinforced her suspicion that Ra’s and Talia had neglected to mention just how large of a family he truly had. That was the first rule of grooming a Shadow: keep them close. Don’t give them another option.  

Artemis had privately decided then and there that she had another mission aside from freeing herself from the Shadows. Her heart had ached when he had leaned into her affectionate petting, so obviously touch-starved that he pressed into her hand like a cat. She was absolutely taking the son of the Bat with her when she escaped the island.

“I see you’ve taken to taming young Master Damian,” Aqil began conversationally, an amused twinkle in his eye.

Artemis swallowed down some mercifully bland oatmeal. “Someone had to. If his ego got any bigger, I don’t think his little body could handle it. One moment he’d be barking orders and the next, poof,” she imitated an explosion with her fingers, “spontaneous combustion. No more tiny terror.” She took another bite of oats. “Really, it’s for his own health.”

“Speaking of health,” the Shadow stared her down with an accusingly arched eyebrow, “you seem to be picking at your food.”

“Being preggers is _fine_. Being preggers _and_ a hostage is a bit on the stressful side,” she grumbled. She picked up an orange and speared her thumb through the skin a bit more aggressively than she had intended. The juices squirted out, and she quickly closed her eyes against their sting. Too late. Artemis blindly grabbed the napkin and pressed it against her eye with a sigh. “It’s super conducive to disturbing hormone dreams and follow-up anxious vomiting. Zero out of ten, would not recommend.”

“Seeing as I can’t become pregnant, your recommendation is both noted and disregarded.”

Artemis finished peeling the fruit and popped an section into her mouth. Tart. “So how do you know all this, anyway? They wouldn’t have picked you for this job randomly. Former doctor?”

“Once, yes, though not in the manner you are thinking. It was a long way to the city, however, and I made do for my village and those close by. I have seen both my wife and daughter through pregnancies,” Aqil responded, a pained smile stretching his lips, “one successful, the other not so much – although that had less to do with prenatal care, and more so with the missiles that rained down upon my village.”

Artemis swallowed with a wince. Typical recruitment story: lost everything in a moment, only to be then given a new purpose in the Shadows. “I’m sorry.” He shook his head.

“My tragedy led me to the Great One, and I am indebted to him and his mission. He asked me to be your caretaker, and I treat my role with great honor and duty. Please, Ms. Crock, drink your water,” Aqil reminded gently. She did.

* * *

“So, what’s wrong with you?” Damian asked, apropos of nothing.

The child – charmingly and obliviously blunt as ever – had returned after his morning lessons and declared that he would take his lunch with her. Artemis had merely shuffled over and opened up the side of the bed that he had claimed earlier that morning. He had climbed up with such a show of forced nonchalance that Artemis had merely rolled her eyes and bodily tugged him over. Now, he sprawled across the center of the bed, unmindful of its other occupant and uncaring of appearances.

“Nothing’s _wrong_ with me,” Artemis retorted. She almost felt insulted until she realized that she had no idea what he was talking about. “I’m perfectly fine.”

“You’re throwing up,” he pointed out accusingly. “Your guard is bringing you pills. You’re sick.”

Oh, that’s what he meant. “I’m not sick. I’m pregnant.” She sighed. Artemis really was not one for the cabbage patches or stork stories, and she really couldn’t believe that Talia or Ra’s would sugarcoat something like sexual reproduction, but she knew she would still have to water down the facts for the kid. “I’m still relatively early on, and my body is still getting used to growing another human. I get vitamins to help with that, to make sure the baby stays healthy as it gets bigger.”

“Oh.” He pondered for a moment. A gull cried outside. “So _that’s_ why you’re fat.”

Artemis bludgeoned him with a pillow.

* * *

“So this Puffin guy–”

“Penguin.”

“What’s the difference?”

“A lot? I don’t know, kid. Puffins fly.”

“Well, they’re both birds.”

“What was your question?”

“Does he actually turn into a bird?”

“Nah, he just kinda looks like one.”

“That’s boring.”

“Agreed.”

* * *

“If these people have been such a problem for my father, why doesn’t he kill them? Especially that Joker…” Damian grumbled into his knees. His legs were pulled up to his chest, his arms wrapped over his ankles. It was such an unsteady position, Artemis resisted the urge to poke and topple him over. 

“That’s something only Batman can answer, I think. He has a strict code, and he lives by it, regardless of the consequences. But… I think part of it is the same principle that all heroes must live by.” He laid his cheek flat on his knees to look up at her. She brushed a thumb across his brow. “Heroes don’t take lives. We save the innocent, and hold the guilty accountable according to the law. As much as we want to always save everyone, sometimes,” Artemis swallowed against the memory of _he wanted me to tell you…_ “we don’t always come out fine. We save as many as we can, and we live with the memory of those that we can’t.”

Damian regarded her quietly. The waves crashing beneath her window filled the silence, and the early afternoon sunlight streamed across the bed. “Grandfather says people are killing the world.”

Artemis snorted “Well, he’s not wrong, there.”

“So why do you save them?”

“There are people killing the Earth, and there are people trying to save it. And I don’t just mean heroes – I mean everyday people, trying their best to help. But even most of the people hurting the Earth don’t do so maliciously, and they can often be turned around into undoing their mistakes. That’s something you can never underestimate Damian: a human’s ability to _change_. That’s why we save them.”

Damian hummed and closed his eyes. “I like that.”

* * *

The sunset slowly her room in bright mandarin, and Artemis received another visitor. “I see my grandson has taken quite an interest in you, Miss Crock.”

Artemis cautiously moved from her stance by the window to the far side of the bed. As little as it would do should Ra’s decide to make a move, having more obstacles between the two of them comforted her a small measure. “Well, he’s certainly better company than my other options,” she waved to the stoic figure by the door. The guard didn’t so much as blink in response. “It’s like those guards in front of Buckingham. Minus the funny fuzzy hats, of course.”

“There is nothing quite like a child’s curiosity,” Ra’s continued, as if she hadn’t interrupted. “They’re like sponges, soaking up any piece of information that might gain their fancy. I do believe you’ve been indulging him too much.” He tossed some papers onto the floor like a gauntlet. From what she could see, they were tactical worksheets, designed to teach maneuvers and strategy at a young age. Fat birds were doodled in the margins.  

“I know I’m ruining his diet of half-truths and systematic brainwashing, but I like kids, and I spoil them when I can.” When Damian had left for his afternoon lessons, he had happily insisted that he would return for dinner and more stories about his family. Artemis had found herself looking forward to the meal and had been weighing which adventures to tell; normally, such stories would be held strictly under a big red CONFIDENTIAL stamp, but she knew that they were vital to change Damian’s impressionable little mind.

“Whatever change you seem determined to affect, I’m afraid that you won’t be around long enough to make a lasting impression.”

Artemis tensed, her entire being screaming _danger!_ as her more rational thought took stock of the casual weaponry she had been cataloguing since she had arrived in her prison. “You need me alive.”

“Only until the child is born; after that, you are quite useless to me. I would have no reason to keep a viper so poisonous in my nest.” He wandered toward the bookshelf, scanning the titles absently. “I trust you have been comfortable here?”

“Quite,” she hissed through grit teeth.

“It’s a pity you won’t be staying. Shadows, if you will.” The guards stationed in the corridor burst into the room, and Artemis immediately grabbed hold of the desk chair and swung it into the closest attacker. The wood splintered across their head, and the Shadow went down. Artemis flung what remained of the seat into the next Shadow, hoping to slow them down, and sprinted toward the bathroom.

“Careful with her! We need the fetus unharmed,” she heard Ra’s demand from the other room. Artemis tore the heavy ceramic lid off of the toilet tank and hefted it like a baseball bat. It cracked against the first Shadow that entered the room and broke against the second, giving her only a moment to reach inside the tank itself and tear out the thin metal float arm.

A sigh. “Don’t be foolish, Miss Crock.” She stabbed her makeshift senbon into her next attacker, eliciting a cry of pain, but two other Shadows moved forward to subdue her, one arresting her hands and another threatening a chokehold around her neck. Artemis stiffened as they marched her back into the bedroom and before an irritated Ra’s al Ghul. “Now, what purpose did that serve? You’ve simply ruined the plumbing and a perfectly good chair.”

Artemis tried – and failed – to blow a shank of hair out of her face. “My doctor did call for light to moderate exercise.” Ra’s looked at her with reproach. “So what, back to the dungeons?”

“No, I believe a change of scenery is in order. Your disappearance seems to have made quite a stir, and I don’t intend on the Justice League spoiling my plan.” Artemis felt the sting of a needle in her neck and cried out. Ra’s image wavered before her, though he seemed more pleased than he had previously. “Rest well, Tigress. Your cub is well, and you’ll be in your new enclosure soon enough.”

Artemis felt her world tilt on its axis, and she let her gaze slide to the open door. She was met Damian’s wide-eyed panic; his lessons for the day must have ended. He was going to eat here, again. His mouth hung open in silent shock or despair, and he was held in place by Aqil’s firm grip on his shoulder. The older Shadow refused to meet her eyes.

She smiled at the boy that she had so quickly become so fond of, Ra’s was wrong – he’d remember.

The darkness swam over her vision, and she went with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that many of y'all have been waiting patiently for these updates, so I hope you don't mind the double post. I won't bore you with the details: I have a life outside of this one, and it sometimes gets very busy. I had senior year of college. I moved to another country. I'm attending grad school. I can only promise y'all that I will continue to try. I love this story, and I will see it through to completion -- no matter how long it takes. 
> 
> And to Jonathon -- yes, you've found the right one :)

**Author's Note:**

> Commentators are friends. 
> 
> I like friends.
> 
> Become a friend.


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